je ne regrette rien
by Densetsu-no-Maguro
Summary: The princess marches on with the sword of pride. [Evillious!fic, Riliane-centered, multichapter, Pride arc AU]
1. the beginning

_The princess is young, so there must be a way that she could change_, the Court Mage reasoned with herself.

The deadly sins, seven of them, were the main headaches of the mage's sharp yet aged head. It wasn't that she was old and decrepit in appearance; the Court Mage of Lucifenia was far from that, but she had seen much, experienced much and lost much. The twins were reunited in such an ironic manner; the male twin ended up being the servant of the female twin, being stripped off his royal rights to be his father's successor to the throne of the country, and Princess Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche did not remember a thing about him or about the fact that he even existed in the first place.

How tragic.

It had to be done. There was no other choice. The disturbances in the past in the political world of the country separated the royal twins and forced one in such a humiliating position, yet the former prince knew the significance of the changes. He knew that it had to be this way. There could be no other way, and there was no changing it unless they wanted more internal strife in an already wavering country.

The princess ate her afternoon snack at 3 that afternoon, with the Court Mage present.

She was a small girl-sized appropriately for her age. A princess of only 13 years old was already in charge of a country, and Elluka feared that the girl would demand for every childish fancy that could ever exist in this time and age. The economy was already bad as it is, and the Three Heroes were trying their best to uphold the country as best as they could, but they only had three pairs of hands and many, many useless ministers. With the princess's naive little blonde head and her sky blue eyes that had yet to see the world as it is behind the confined compounds of the Lucifenian palace, Elluka had to wonder whether the country was finally running out of luck, or whether some god, any god, got fed up and abandoned the nation.

But that wasn't the main problem. The main problem was that the princess was possessed.

The demon of Pride was something to be feared, for it possessed the current monarch of the country. Pride-that spelled everything wrong for the country. If the princess, who was already spoiled as she was, succumbed to her own whims and fancies, the country would be better off burning to the ground in a day. Better to see that than seeing the people starve day by day, and Elluka sincerely hoped in her heart of hearts that it wouldn't come to that.

The pink-haired mage shifted her gaze to the silent princess, who was slowly eating a pastry as if she was concentrating on eating alone.

Not once, but twice was that girl possessed.

"...You know, I'll steal one if you don't finish your food quickly," Elluka teased, but all she got was a sideways glance from the thoughtful princess and nothing in response. Riliane looked at her for a brief moment, then returned back to staring at the finely painted china.

_This was getting nowhere_, Elluka thought.

"Riliane?" the mage tried, taking a seat across the princess at her tea table in the gardens of the Heavenly Yard. "What's on your mind?"

Anne's daughter looked up from her empty plate.

"...Everything," was what she said.

* * *

><p><strong>je ne regrette rien<strong>  
>a Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche fanfiction<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<br>the beginning

* * *

><p>Rheumatism.<p>

Old people tend to have so many problems. Creaking bones and aching limbs aren't things that could be easily remedied, and despite the augmentation of magic to decrease physical aging, there was only so much that this old witch could do. Here she was, an old, decrepit witch surrounded with books, scrolls, candles and the stereotypical feline; the textbook wicked witch of wherever a compass could direct one to.

In her wrinkled, aged hands was a letter from the little girl, Ney, stating that the kingdom of Lucifenia was finally under the complete control of the sole royal, Princess Riliane, and that one of the Four Mirrors of Lucifenia was given to the princess some time after the burial of Queen Anne. Someone should be panicking right about now-notably the Lucifenian court mage, Elluka Clockworker, and Abyss I.R. chuckled to herself in her raspy voice.

The wench didn't even deserve that name.

The demon of Pride should be influencing Anne's daughter right about now, and the destruction of Lucifenia would be the witch's greatest joy. To see so many years of hard work and prosperity, undone in a matter of time, oh, how thrilling! She folded the letter, then slowly walked to her fireplace and tossed the paper into the burning fire, listening quietly to the crackling sounds of burning paper as the fire ate away at the undercover maid's cursive handwriting. The seal was intact, and Abyss I.R. stared at the disintegrating letter with her vessel's cloudy vision.

Once upon a time, a glorious country went up in flames.

Once upon a time, she was at the verge of death. She was once a young girl, crying out to the heavens in pain and rage as blood stained the cobblestone floor of the once majestic palace of the Magic Kingdom Levianta.

It was a cold night-did it snow back then? Abyss I.R. couldn't remember. All she remembered was the pain, the fear of death and the sight of dead people with their features mangled up and their organs staining the once holy site of the Pantheon. A shining light of twin dragons, and Abyss I.R. remembered yet another thing.

Her strained throat struggling to scream, to cry out for someone or something to help her.

Well, that was five centuries ago, and here she was, still alive and very much comfortable.

'_Who are we to turn to? Well I was told I would rule this country. Naturally, I shall, as I alone draw blood from the former King. However, I shall not inherit the throne. Until I became an adult, I shall leave the throne to my mother. My mother alone is the Queen, so I shall respect her with that. As the Princess and daughter of the former Queen, I shall take over my mother's rule._'

A fancy speech for a young girl. Maybe this was her early birthday gift? She didn't have to fight much for it-fate had already set it in such a way that no matter what happened, she would get the throne. Abyss I.R. could almost imagine the princess in the Hall of Sounds, asserting her new-found dominance over people who clearly read more than her, seen more than her and worked more than she ever did.

The witch laughed again, reveling in the newly created headache that she had presented on the gameboard for her dear, dear sister.

* * *

><p>At the same time, the princess in question stayed up in her room that night.<p>

Riliane could barely see straight in the dark, having not lit any candles to illuminate the night. Things were moving about in her room, or maybe that was her already distorted vision, which kept up since the past hour. She chose to keep quiet about the matter-it had started the day after her mother's funeral, and had half a mind to call the royal physician until she decided that it could've been a side-effect of grief for the dead.

But her vision was blurring, and she felt an uncomfortable heaviness. It was pressing against her heart, against her head and against her better judgement.

There was something in a book that she had read about a young king, before or after his coronation, had dreamed about God, who had asked him what he had wanted. The young king had asked for wisdom to rule his people, and God, in His delight, granted other things such as permanent victories over his enemies, endless riches and a prosperous kingdom.

Surely this wasn't what Riliane was experiencing. If God had chosen this approach, Riliane didn't want it.

She wasn't in the best of appearances; her long blonde hair limply fell around her petite face as she clawed at the sheets of her bed while sweating. Her lace nightgown, stitched with her preliminary levels of embroidery, only served to keep the uncomfortable heat that she felt, and despite the windows being open, Riliane felt suffocated. The room spun, and when she tried to move one hand, her mind started to go dizzy, disorienting her senses greatly.

Then she smelled corpses.

Riliane clutched at her chest, fighting to breathe. She had no energy to call anyone; the servants, Mariam, Elluka...she couldn't call anyone, much less speak.

Visions of her gallant father, the late king, fighting in dangerous battlefields against rebels or other kingdoms flashed in her eyes like vague memories, yet they didn't seem so wondrous and glorious as she had once thought. People died like flies on the battlefield, with their blood spilled on rock and their horses being struck down or shot from a distance by an archer or two-with those visions, Riliane felt extremely sick.

Visions of her beautiful mother, who had raised her flashed in her eyes like passing events, the golden gems of her childhood. Fate too had taken her dearest mother, the late queen away from her in the manifestation of a plague, a most terrible plague. Sickness was something to be feared of, and Riliane remembered the precautionary measures that the apothecaries set for themselves and not for the people-masks with long, protruding beaks that made them look like death personified instead of the savior of the sick and the learned people they were.

Riliane was fearful, and her fear grew as she realized that she couldn't speak.

She fought to keep alert-she fought to keep her eyes wide and open despite the confusingly horrific sights that she witnessed, but before she could even reach the end of her bed, she felt something touch her chin.

A cold, solid breeze.

By this time, she was crying.

"M...Ma..." was all she could muster as she tried to call for the Head of Maids, but as she struggled to clutch at her bedclothes, she took hold of something sharp instead, causing her to weakly gasp in pain. Blood stained the white sheets that were buried beneath her yellow comforter, and Riliane struggled to see what it was.

A sword.

A sword with a golden hilt, a sharp blade with her blood staining it.

The suffocating feeling from before left her instantly, but Riliane was too muddled to even care about anything else as she picked the sword up, staring at it in disbelief. It wasn't there before. How did it get there? Why was it here?

Why was this thing here?

* * *

><p>"Your Highness, your hands-"<p>

"Didn't I tell you to keep quiet? Treat them immediately!"

Allen Avadonia, chamberlain to the princess after a few days of service, treated the princess's wounded hands first thing in the morning. The sheets were changed without complaint, accompanied with Riliane's sharp orders to the servants concerned to not speak of the incident to anyone. As the ointment made contact with the angry red of her wounds, Riliane hissed in pain, glaring at the servant who surprisingly had a very close resemblance to her. The same blue eyes, the same blonde hair baffled Riliane, but no matter, it was something that she was proud of. A servant who looked exactly like her-no other monarch could've pulled that off. Something to show off as a bonus.

He had arrived a day before her declaration to the ministers by one of the Three Heroes, Leonhart Avadonia, much to her delight. Allen was a peculiar trophy; he wasn't one of the spoils of war, for there was no war lately, but he was someone that Riliane was proud of having in her service. Maybe it was because of his appearance, who knows? At least he was a visual form of entertainment; it was like looking into a mirror.

And it was around this time when Allen caught Riliane staring at him.

"...Mi'lady?"

"I wonder where you came from," Riliane said idly. "It's like someone foresaw that I would like a replica of myself and brought it about."

Allen blinked in confusion, but held himself back from laughing in fear of the princess's unpredictable moods. The princess's earlier claims of not joking about her decisive punishments were deeply rooted in his head, and it produced a sort of reaction from two out of the Three Heroes, notably the Court Mage and the Head of Maids. Testing the waters, he bandaged up the princess's delicate hands and looked at her pondering expression.

It was as if she was deep in thought, completely away from the matters of the world.

What could be going on in that head of hers?

"...Mi'lady, I would like to ask a question," Allen tried.

Riliane jerked a little at his voice, then nodded. "Go ahead."

"Your earlier statement," he began, then tried to remember. "You said that you weren't joking about your authority to behead people?"

The princess laughed, then extended her arms wide. "Allen. Look at all of this."

He looked. It was a grand room, full of ornaments and royal draperies, as well as the precious items that the princess loved. A comfortable four-poster bed with newly changed sheets looked comfortable enough to anyone who desired a good sleep, gold railings on the barriers that separated the bed from the rest of the room and tall, wide windows of glass that allowed the sunlight to stream in. Allen and Riliane were sitting on the embroidered carpet by her bed, and upon seeing the pride and joy in the princess's face, he allowed himself a small moment to smile as well.

But once upon a time, this was his room too.

"All of this is mine," Riliane proudly stated. "All of Lucifenia is mine. All of its people is mine. I have every right to say anything I want, or order for anything to be done under my name. And this is why I have to wield my authority accordingly, or whenever I please."

She looked at her chamberlain with a tickled smile.

"Isn't that right, Allen?"

He could only smile back weakly.

"That's right, Your Highness."

"Now that I've answered your question," Riliane huffed, then gave her arm for Allen to help her up, "it's time to plan for my birthday," she grinned.

Oh.

Right.

Her birthday, to which he shared with her.

"With everything that this kingdom has, surely it can grant me a grand birthday," the princess continued, walking out of her private quarters. "I'd like you to take note of what I specifically want for my birthday, which is coming up in a few days."

"Yes, Your Highness," Allen obediently nodded. "With the best of my ability."

"Invite the royalty of each country in the continent, and each noble in the country," Riliane began, walking through the halls. "I demand a great celebration, in which I will contemplate further on the details later."

"Of course, mi'lady."

A pause, then Riliane turned around. Despite Allen walking behind her, she wasn't looking directly at the servant. The halls seemed so endless, and if it wasn't for the sunlight that streamed through the majestic glass windows of the palace, it would've been an abyss of darkness that could swallow the both of them up whole. The princess remembered the sword on her bed, the sword that wasn't there in the first place, and she could've sworn that there was a servant who cheekily tried to play a prank on her, or worse, injure her as she slept.

But it wasn't there when she first got there, and she was alone.

And it was a beautiful sword. She was good at fencing-no one ever beat her. She was the best, wasn't she?

No, this wasn't about whether she was good in her swordplay. This was something entirely different; something was wrong. Something, deep in her heart of hearts, was telling her that this wasn't the Lucifenia that she grew up in, that this Lucifenia is slowly rotting to the ground. How could she know? The princess had never stepped out of the confines of the palace; that was unreasonable and unthinkable.

Something is wrong.

This isn't the glorious Lucifenia she once knew.

She needed to see this for herself. There was something terribly, terribly wrong.

"...Fetch my steed, Josephine, and do not speak of my departure."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know I've been putting off updating Condominiums, Mendacium Speculorum and you don't bring me flowers anymore, but this is a new Evillious centered fic based on an AU idea about Riliane being influenced by the demon of Pride in...different ways. Patriotism will be increased, childish squabbling will be toned down to a bare minimum, and places will be burned.

-Densetsu-no-Maguro


	2. of a legendary story

**je ne regrette rien**  
>a Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche fanfiction<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<br>of a legendary story

* * *

><p>"Your Highness! Princess Riliane!"<p>

Before the princess and her chamberlain could even depart to their respective destinations, a voice demanded of the monarch's attention, leaving no room for Riliane and Allen's prior proceedings to go smoothly. Going against all mannerly protocol befitting a palace maid was a red-haired, twin-tailed maidservant whom the princess recognized as the maid who was infamous for regularly breaking most of the fine china and the architecture of the palace, literally. The maid's strength was reputed to be unmatched, uncontrolled and worst of all, inappropriate for her demure stature, and instantly Allen widened his eyes in panic at the fear that she should trip and fling herself to the nearest breakable ornament.

Fortunately, Chartette Langley kept most of her composure, save for exclaiming for the princess's attention as if her life depended on it. Just as when Allen thought that the worst was finally evaded, the maid started speaking quickly in fear of forgetting the message that she was assigned to deliver to the princess. Chartette had memorized it by heart before reaching Riliane, having repeated the message to herself in quiet, quick tones, but upon seeing the princess in the flesh, the nerves kicked in instantly, rendering Chartette's efforts useless.

"Captain Leonhart said that this was very, very important and that you should see him immediately in the throne room I don't know what he wants to talk about but he said that it was an emergency and and-!"

Riliane and Allen found themselves at a loss.

"...Do repeat that," Riliane said, looking genuinely confused.

Chartette took a deep breath, clasping her hands together as her fingers intertwined. "I-I know that it's not my place to tell you where to go and stuff, but Captain Leonhart wants to talk to you! It's very urgent, and he wants to meet you in the throne room! Immediately!"

The princess looked on at the maid in disbelief. "Now? He is there_ now_?"

Chartette nodded, her red twindrills bobbing up and down as she did so. "N-Now, Your Highness."

Riliane arched an eyebrow, appalled by the fact that a hero of the country decided that it was within his ability and authority to do as he liked, which seemed to include summoning his monarch to wherever he decided to wait for an audience. She scoffed; this truly was ridiculous. The princess rolled her eyes, then looked at Allen and gave a small, tolerated smile. No use losing her cool here.

"Well, if that is what he wants, then that is what he'll get. If it is _that_ important..."

"It is, P-Princess Riliane," Chartette said, still very much out of breath.

Sharp blue eyes met wavering red. "Did you say something?" Riliane snapped, almost daring the maid to repeat what she said, or to agree with her baited question.

"No!" the maid quickly said, bowing in respect. "I-I mean, no, Your Highness."

Gathering her skirts, Riliane walked past Chartette without even a word of thanks or a nod of acknowledgement, beckoning Allen to follow her as they left the maid to her own counsel. How the ways of the world changed, indeed! Right after the death of the great queen, the Three Heroes apparently decided to take it upon themselves to try and rule the country, and this first act was a sure sign that they would try to take the country in their own hands. Did they think that they could try and control the country using their past achievements as a benchmark, and would they try to influence her or worse, manipulate her rule because she was still young?

Lucifenia was _her_ country.

_She_ was its princess.

But in the middle of her angered thoughts, Riliane spotted the Captain of the Royal Guard waiting in front of the doors of the throne room, his face full of worry and apparent discomfort. Unlike the times when he used to try and humor her when she was a young girl, he stood very still instead of moving around, contemplating on the emergency that he was about to present to her in an attempt to possibly find an answer. Donned in his usual regalia of red armor, Leonhart himself contrasted greatly with his surroundings, and his height towered over the princess's, whose stature was still that of a little girl's.

Riliane had never liked him one bit, but seeing him tensed up did increase her suspicions.

There was something that constantly whispered in her brain that something was wrong, that she must do something. There was something wrong with the country, and she was its princess, and she alone had the authority to lead Lucifenia to its former pride and glory, or elevate it to even greater heights. Being near the captain almost hurt her head, and it certainly did after a few seconds with the throbs and the squeezes, but Riliane stepped forward to make herself seen and heard.

"You have some nerve, summoning me to my own throne room like this for a mere audience," Riliane managed a silently threatening grin.

Leonhart looked up from his stupor and due to chivalrous fealty, he got on a knee and bowed before the little princess. "Your Highness."

"Rise. Allen, keep watch," Riliane coolly said, turning her head to the doors of the throne room. "Will this take long?" she asked Leonhart.

"Quite long," the brown-haired knight nodded, his face grave as he stood up. "A matter of great importance. A public plea. I sincerely hope that Your Royal Highness would grant my request, for the good of the people of Lucifenia."

"_Your_ request, or the _people's_ request?" the princess asked, her voice snide and her grin teasing, as if she was testing him.

Instead of rising to the bait, the captain kept his head down. "My request, for the needs of the people."

Riliane had half a mind to just walk away from the pathetic scene before her.

"...Open the doors then. They won't open themselves," the princess acquiesced, giving room for the knight to open the doors for her. Her eyes were set on the throne at the far middle end of the room, a grand chair only fit for kings and queens, a chair that everyone coveted. With the power came the throne, and vice-versa. Riliane almost wanted to stand there for a moment to stare at it, the throne that had been passed down from dozens of royal ancestors.

What is the use of a throne if people can still control you from behind?

She forced herself to walk in, letting Leonhart close the doors behind them in the vast, finely decorated room. One step, two steps, three, wearing her pretty yellow shoes that clicked on the red carpet leading to the throne of the land, and Riliane felt exalted.

In her useless history lessons with Elluka or Mariam, they had spoken about Lord Banica Conchita, and how she terrorized the land with her ingenuity in war strategies. The best there was. Beelzenia would've declined much earlier without the controversial woman who couldn't live if she didn't consume human blood within three days._  
><em>

Riliane wasn't completely interested in war, and she ate like a bird.

And suddenly, after a night, she was. She was interested in war. She was interested in taking that beautiful sword with her, brandishing it as she strikes down her enemies and be hailed like a hero, just like her chivalrous father and her strong-willed mother. The blade had cut her, and despite the pain, she realized that it was a beautiful thing, that sword. It was extraordinary- no blacksmith would've ever thought of making such a masterpiece.

Everyone would be so proud of her.

She would feel so proud at what she could do.

The princess sat on her throne, then rested an elbow on an armrest and leaned back against the throne, snapping her fingers with an ignorant look on her face to conceal her abnormal thoughts. "How shameless can you be? My birthday is coming, and instead of me asking something of you, this is the complete opposite."

Leonhart wasn't fearful of her, and neither was she fearful of him. They were like cats up a stable roof, waiting, just waiting for someone to make a wrong move, and it apparently stayed that way. But in this situation, the famed knight was begging something of his liege, the princess, and the princess wondered what could possibly have shook him so.

"...Your Highness, the people are starving," was his only reply to her taunts.

Bewilderment was on the princess's face in a second, upon comprehending what he had said.

"..._Starving?_" Riliane repeated in disbelief. "How can that be?"

"At the moment, there is a famine in the land," Leonhart continued, sounding completely desperate. "There are poor harvest yields, and I wish to request for your permission to distribute the palace's food reserve to the people."

...This wasn't right.

This wasn't right, _this wasn't right_, **_this wasn't right. _**

The people weren't supposed to be starving. They were supposed to be completely fine, not starving away due to a famine that she didn't even know of. If her surprise and horror reflected on her face, then Leonhart was certainly doing a good job in making sure that she realized that he noticed it straight away.

Her bandaged hands were shaking, clutching at the armrests for dear life as the pressure threatened to break open her wounds again. Her face paled; instead of burning with anger, there was an uncomfortable coldness filled her body, chilling her being to the bone. Her heart dropped; where did it go wrong? _Where did it go wrong?_ Why was this country surrendering to something as mediocre as _famine_?

Riliane felt like throwing everything in the room around, tearing the drapes and grabbing one of the ornamented swords from the wall to _slice his head off._

_This simply isn't possible, you knave._

"...Poor harvest yields," Riliane spat. "Famine," she hissed. "So you're saying that they can't even eat bread."

"...Yes, Your Highness-" Leonhart managed, but he was harshly cut off by the princess standing up from her throne as she turned on him, enraged beyond measure.

Riliane stood at her full height, despite being much, much shorter than the heavily built knight. Her blue eyes flared with an anger, an anger of being humiliated, shamed or worse, completely ridiculed. Her wounds bled the blood that didn't reach her face, staining the white bandages that were meant to keep the wounds dormant and ever healing, but Riliane didn't care for the pain.

What she felt was overwhelming shame and anger.

A great country like Lucifenia, surrendering to famine?

What a joke!

What a pathetic, sad joke!

"Well, since they can't eat bread, _let them eat cake!_" Riliane cackled, then at Leonhart's horrified reaction, she stopped laughing and started yelling.

"Famine! You say that this country is suffering from famine! What has Lucifenia become? This isn't the land that I was born in, nor is it the land that I grew up in! I wasn't given a country that is a laughing stock to other countries! And what have you been doing; what has the Three Heroes done? Have you three grown complacent due to your past achievements?"

"Your Highness, this is a bit-"

"A bit _what_?" Riliane glared. "You try! You try answering back! None of you are doing anything! While you drink yourself to death, while Mariam Futapie revels in her own authority, while the Court Mage locks herself in her room doing all of her silly, useless spells, what have you three been doing?"

Leonhart, being the fighter he was, stood his ground. "Princess, we have helped build Lucifenia with your late father and mother, the king and queen. We have tried and did every effort to build the country and to keep it safe and prosperous; the famine was unforeseeable. Therefore, this is an action of mine to ask of you a favor to help the people, and with your permission, this problem can be alleviated."

Riliane felt as if she was being slapped in the face, and her anger only increased. Her voice, however, lowered to a hissed whisper.

"...Do you not care for the _pride_ of this country?"

Leonhart bit his lip.

"I care for the safety of the country, and the welfare of the people."

"_Fool!_"

The princess went up to the knight and grabbed the cloth part of his armor, her eyes tinged with angered tears.

"You fool, you stubborn, stupid fool...!"

Leonhart could only look helplessly at the princess's wavering eyes, the eyes that clearly showed the frustration, anger and displeasure at not getting what she intended. If it was any other situation, he would've dismissed it as a mere childish tantrum, but there was something else in Riliane's eyes that scared him. It was unhealthy, what he saw. The righteous yet twisted anger at the news of the people starving, the desperate look that she gave him and the way her bloodied hands gripped at his clothes scared him.

He didn't expect this to shake her so much.

"Why are the people suffering? Why?" Riliane screamed, her voice growing hoarser. Her face contorted into a look of pure agony, and her blood stained his attire. "Why is this happening to us? After my mother had passed, why is this country cursed?"

Her grip loosened, and she wanted nothing more than to slump to the floor and weep. Such is not a behavior for a princess, however, but everything was unfair. Everything was crumbling down to the ground; the majestic kingdom of Lucifenia, suffering from famine. It wasn't a game; famine can go on for years on end, and no one can even do much. Even the reserves of the palace can only feed so many, and Riliane would have to settle for eating what Josephine eats if things get much worse.

At this point, she wouldn't mind the taste of horse feed, but it would taste very much like shame.

Something must be done, and she couldn't rely on the knight before her, nor the woman with magical wonders, nor the woman who could get rid of physical problems in the blink of an eye or in the dead of the night. She can't listen to anyone.

Princess Riliane was alone. Like the sun, which illuminated the days and provided the moon its reflective light in the night, she was alone.

The thing that hurt her the most was a damaged pride.

"...Allow one-eighth of the reserves to be distributed to the people," Riliane whispered brokenly, admitting defeat. The neighboring countries would know that they were suffering; they would offer aid, and Lucifenia would be labeled as a country that was slowly fading away.

Leonhart looked down at the little princess, who was no longer shaking like a leaf. "...You would allow this, Your Highness?" he asked, not wanting to aggravate the girl any further. "I assure you, Your Highness, that the people will be fine after aid has been given from the royal palace."

"No," Riliane said, controlling herself from shaking. "No, they won't." She drew herself up and looked right at the bewildered knight. "They won't be alright; a famine lasts long, depending on the seasons. Therefore, I need you to carry out an order for me."

"An...order?" Leonhart asked, then he looked at her primly folded hands, which were stained red on the bandages. "Your Highness...!"

She hid her hands behind her back.

"This country is obviously declining after the passing of the queen. To strengthen this country, many measures must be taken," Riliane emphasized. "My succession is still in question, but that is not a problem. The problem is Lucifenia's fading influence in Bolganio."

That was partly true, for after King Arth's death, even Queen Anne couldn't shoulder the entire country on her shoulders. The male ruler has always been the priority; the queen was merely acting as regent until Prince Alexiel was to inherit the throne. Unfortunately, a given few only knew about the prince's dilemma, and the princess was far worse off; she didn't even know that a prince existed. Leonhart listened attentively, wondering about the weight that the princess's words carried, and whether she has truly grown up in a few days.

Certainly, she has not.

Riliane's sole interests were to restore the pride of the country, and with that came many other things. What was the easiest way to restore pride and honor and glory?

"...On my birthday," Riliane continued, "assemble the Royal Guard and perform the oath of fealty to me. There is a possibility that we might have to go to war."

Captain Leonhart's eyes widened.

"War?"

"Indeed."

"War, for what purpose? We can't attack as we like!"

"We're not doing that," Riliane shook her head. "They think that I am weak, for I am young. Asmodean and Beelzenia are strong kingdoms; they have much older rulers, and with the passing of my mother, they would make us a laughing stock. No one has ever heard of a princess ruling a kingdom, yet I do not wish to be crowned queen until I come of age out of respect for the late queen."

Riliane then walked back to her throne, but she remained standing as she stood in front of it, her face decisive.

"Strengthening influence through war. Isn't that what my father did asides from conquering new territories?"

"But war during a famine would make the country much worse!" Leonhart protested vehemently. "The people will be in a much worse condition, and our country might come back with a Pyrrhic victory, or none at all! Funds are needed to carry out wars as well, and if the Prime Minister can give you a draft of accounts, then hopefully we have some if you wish to carry it out."

Riliane tried her best not to seem plaintive.

"We feed the people first," she said calmly, "then we plan for war."

"And when will that be?"

"Feed the people effective immediately, and at my birthday celebration, keep it at a low profile. We plan for war the day after."

There was no other choice. It was true that the Lucifenian influence was fading from the regions that King Arth had conquered thus far, and the regions were slowly retreating back to their own roots in Asmodean and Beelzenia. With the people starving, nations that are interested in conquering the country would use this as an advantage to ride in and conquer due to its temporarily weakened state, along with despairing public sentiments. Aid was completely out of the question, and despite treaties and peace agreements, any country could break it whenever they wished.

For once, Riliane had made sense, and took a large risk.

Leonhart understood, but there seemed to be something wrong somewhere. It was an idea that the princess's father would've made, but never what her mother would've done. If anything, it was as if someone else was talking in the princess's stead, for the princess was never interested in war and conquest before. There was a time when she was interested in inheriting the throne, momentarily severing the bond with her beloved twin brother, Alexiel, but that was a long time ago and she couldn't remember a thing about it.

Nevertheless, since it was for the good of the country, Leonhart complied happily.

"...I am overjoyed by your orders, Your Highness. I will see to it that they are carried out exactly as you want them to be!"

Instead of the confident smile she would always have upon agreement to her terms, the knight saw the princess take a deep breath, as if the air wasn't enough.

* * *

><p>"Yes, she was quite spaced out..." the blonde-haired maid agreed, untying the ribbon that held up her long hair into a side ponytail.<p>

The servants quarters were small, yet comfortable enough for the servants to reside in and rest in after their duties. Night came quickly, which was rather odd for the servants since the work that they received at a daily basis seemed to trudge on forever until they were too tired to even appreciate the end of the day. However, two maids were awake in the same room that night; the adopted daughter of the Head of the Maids and the maid that had the inhuman ability to break everything in her path.

"Right? Princess Riliane's really odd lately, isn't she?" Chartette snapped her fingers, brushing her red hair. "Can you find out what's up with her, Ney?"

Ney Futapie rolled her eyes. "Do you think I _want_ to? I've got so many chores as it is, and Mother's not giving me any breaks."

"Of course you want to! Free gossip?" Chartette challenged, knowing that Ney would rise to the bait.

Which, surprisingly to Chartette, she didn't.

"Gossip from my employer? From _that_ kind of employer?" Ney sighed, then took Chartette's hairbrush and made the girl spin around to face the wall. "The only time when I'm going to be interested in gossip from Her Royal Highness, Princess Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche is if she gets herself into a scandal," Ney continued, brushing the other maid's hair.

Chartette huffed, but she didn't give up easily. "Then maybe it'll spark your interest that the princess had bandaged hands!"

"Oh?" Ney responded, idly braiding Chartette's hair into a braided ponytail for sleep. "Did she get hurt?"

"Not sure," Chartette sighed, "but it looked as if her hands were really wounded. Wanna look into the matter, Ney? At least we can help her in whatever's going on, but if it's got to do with her insane orders and slaving the people away, then I want no part of it!" Determinedly, the girl cracked her knuckles and adjusted the straps of her lace nightgown, puffing her face up. "I'd fling her to the nearest pillar if I get the authority to!"

"Which you'll never get," Ney coolly said, doing a good job in not looking remotely interested in whatever the other maid said.

"You'll see one day, Ney! Fiction does come true if you believe in it!"

"Yes, of course."

Ney blinked when Chartette turned around without warning to face her, then got even more surprised when Chartette took both of her hands in hers with a pleading expression meant for children who wanted a zany scheme to happen. "Please, Ney? Pleeeease? You're good at getting gossip out! Come on, help me out? Pleaaase? I'm sure it'll be worth your while!"

"Tette, let go," Ney slowly said, even shirking away, but Chartette scooted closer.

"You know you want the gossip, Ney," Chartette droned. "You were born for gossip. You're good at this. This is a golden opportunity."

"You just want me to do your dirty work. No."

"Neeeeeey! Pleeeeease? For me?"

The blacksmith's daughter resorted to childish pouting to get what she wanted, but the hero's adopted daughter chose to overlook it.

"No."

"T-Then I'll take your side of the bed! I'll let you freeze tonight, since the left bed gets the wind quicker! It's December, you know! You wouldn't want that, would you? You'll wake up in the morning looking like a frog, and you'll never get your good looks back!" Chartette threatened, then sighed as her request went unattended no matter how much she tried.

To Chartette's surprise, Ney laughed quietly and took a hand in hers, patting it.

"Well, if I look into it, it's not even for your own benefit. You'll be at the sidelines, completely starved of information, and I'll just listen to you beg and beg..." Whimsically, the golden-haired maid whistled as she closed her eyes, pretending to be deep in thought. "Or maybe I'll make it easy for you, because you pleaded your cause with me so much?"

The red-haired maid looked at Ney expectantly. "Y-You'll do it? You'll give me a great story?"

Ney opened her golden eyes and smiled.

"Should I deny you, _princess_?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This is a really long chapter, ksjdfh.

It's meant to portray a very shaky beginning, as things would've been easier for Rill to have ordered her giant birthday cake and all, but no. Hopefully I can have enough drive to post chapter 3 one of these days orz

Thank you so much! The next chapter will come soon!

-Densetsu-no-Maguro


	3. doesn't always start well,

**je ne regrette rien  
><strong>a Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche fanfiction

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<br>doesn't always start well,

* * *

><p>The clock rang six, and Ney woke up with a start, giving a brief gasp of shock before realizing that it was merely the alarm.<p>

Unwittingly, or maybe by design, Ney _did_ sleep at the left bed, and true to Chartette's word, the wind blew to the left at night. Horrid winds, Lucifenia had. They couldn't keep the windows shut in the servants' quarters; they had to leave at least one slightly open for ventilation. The maids didn't even have to blow out their candles- the wind did the job for them, and Ney rubbed her eyes to face yet another day in servitude to the princess and the ministers.

All she wanted to do was to go back to sleep, but the sheets were no warmer than her own body. If anything, the sheets absorbed the icy chill of the wind, and it was _she_ who insulated the thick bedclothes when it was meant to be the other way round. Ney audibly groaned in silent protest, but she forced herself to get out of bed and stepped on the icy wooden floor with her bare feet, which trembled afresh.

Ney sucked in a breath, preventing herself from cursing.

Nevertheless, the blonde-haired maid took it upon herself to do an extra duty that she obviously wouldn't be paid for, neither in money nor credit. Ney subjected her feet to figurative ice, walking on chilled floorboards until she reached Chartette's bed, to which she sat on it and shook the other maid repeatedly by the arm.

"Chartette, it's six," Ney said, or hissed. It was cold, it was early, and they were maids, so niceties would have to go.

The only response was a semi-frustrated groan, as much frustration as a person addled with sleep could give away. Chartette even went so far as to hug her spare pillow tighter, and Ney almost felt like slapping her awake.

"...Tette," she tried again, shaking harder. "Wake up, it's six. Mother will pitch a fit."

"Five more min-" Chartette began blearily, but Ney knew better than to listen to the end of the well-used phrase.

"We're going on an adventure today," Ney scooted over, placing her lips next to the other girl's ear to whisper. "An adventure for news," she whispered enticingly. "Don't you want to be up nice and early for it, Tette?"

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, after all.

Much to Ney's shock, Chartette rose up quickly, letting Ney almost fall over the small bed. The bubbly, energetic maid had regained her cheer and energy from Ney's provocations, even going so far as to raise her clothed arms high up to the ceiling. Frazzled as it was, Ney's hair covered her face upon falling, and an audible grunt soon followed.

"Adventure!" Chartette announced. "Indeed, an adventure awaits!"

Ney groaned.

"Get dressed," she sighed, picking herself up from the floor. Her hands and feet were already chilled as they were, and if anything, she felt horrible. Never again would she sleep at the left bed in December; it was like wanting suicide from nature. Grabbing her black uniform and her white apron that was the staple attire of the maids in the palace, Ney walked behind the shabby folding screen to change. Petticoat, check. Stockings, check. Undergarments, check. Clothes, check. Shoes, check. Yellow ribbon, check.

...All that's left is to wash her face.

The small hand mirror behind the folding screen reflected oddly on how she looked; presentable, which was good. Ney gave it a glance; how funny fate is, and how funny life can be! While the sole concern and objective of the maids in the palace was to serve the princess, Ney had a million other things in her mind, and a million other jobs that would never end while she was serving one and serving another.

_Blonde_ hair.

_Lucifenian_.

Stepping out of the folding screen, she walked to the small wash room inside the room, then scooped the icy water in her already freezing hands and splashed the liquid on her face. Such a routine was usual for the maids, and as Ney wiped her face with a towel, she turned around to see Chartette excitedly getting ready in the wee hours of the morning.

A dismal sigh escaped Ney's lips.

"It's a normal weekday, Tette," she said in a discouraged tone. "I just said that to get you up."

Chartette refused to be put down by such a bleak intonation. "But our tasks for the morning involve waking Queen Riliane up, right?~"

"Don't call her that to her face," Ney reminded her, tying her mass of hair into its usual side ponytail. "She might start a phase in which there might be _eighteen heads chopped off by the guillotine per month_. You know she's capable of that."

As Chartette put her hair up in the usual curls, she let out a terrified gasp. "She _will?_" the blacksmith's daughter said in horrified disbelief.

"She _might_," Ney sighed. "So don't provoke her."

"Ney, I'm concerned," Chartette said, sounding worried. "The way the princess is acting; I'm scared that the people will suffer. I mean- I know she's still a very young girl, but if her fancies end up jeopardizing the people's welfare, then...!"

Her fellow maid took a deep breath. "You're afraid that it might start."

"Yes!"

"It hasn't started yet, but there's nothing and no one that can change the princess's mind once she has made it up," Ney shook her head. "The best we can do as servants is to serve her as best as we can, and that's all."

A knock on the door. No, two knocks. Three.

"Ney! Ney, are you in?" a frantic voice came from behind the wooden door.

Ney's hushed, mature tones changed into a tone full of hostility and harshness. "Go away."

Language befitting a maid. Everyone tended to be rough around here, even if they don't mean it. Ney had to wonder why she had to conform to such trivial things, but all in the name of work. Chartette looked at Ney nervously, then at the door, knowing that she couldn't make a sound because this was Ney's room in extension. The second bed in each servants' quarters was to accommodate newer additions to the royal service, so Ney had quite a lot of temporary roommates coming in and out.

"Ney, what time is it?" the voice asked, still frantic as ever.

"Six fifteen. What's wrong with you; don't you have your own clock?" she retorted, walking to the door with Chartette following behind.

"Princess Riliane's awake! She demands for the whole palace workforce to be awake as well!"

At that, Ney unbolted the door, then pulled it open and came face to face with a fellow maid whose expression didn't match her frantic voice. Rather than being frightened, she looked rather excited, as if she had realized that she had an unhealthy obsession with the genre of morbidity. Her brown eyes pierced right at Ney's golden ones, and a rather manic smile was on her face as if she reveled in the pandemonium so early in the morning.

The smile disappeared when she saw Chartette in the room as well, pretending to gather cloaks that obviously weren't needed.

"...What's Chartette doing in your room?" came the question.

"We had fun last night," came the answer, along with a smirk.

"I'll tell _Madame_ Futapie," the other maid grinned. "It won't be a secret, but it will be if you tell me the details."

"Tell Mother and I'll tell everyone how you spent the night with Minister Holst in return, _with_ the details and more."

Knowing better than to cross against the daughter of the Head of Maids, the lesser ranked servant sighed. "I won't tell, I won't tell. Goodness, Ney, you really don't know how to take a joke, do you?"

"Oh, but I joke all the time. What's going on so early in the morning?"

"As I said," the maid said, pulling Ney's arm closer so that she could whisper, but then let it go as she realized that it was completely useless since the word was out anyways. "I won't whisper, but the princess is awake around the same time as us. Something must be up."

"Chartette and I will get something from the kitchens, then we'll go to attend to the princess," Ney concluded, then walked back into the room to nudge Chartette. "We have to go."

"Now?" Chartette blinked.

"Now. Grab some bread, drink whatever they have and prepare to go to the princess's quarters."

Chartette complied, walking out of the room with Ney as the taller maid shooed the brown-eyed maid away before locking her room door. The hall was full of male and female servants alike, chattering away as Ney wondered where the head of authority, her mother, could've gone to. Upon braving through the crowds of gossiping servants, Ney remained stone-faced until Chartette hit the back of her head with a palm.

"!"

"_That's_ for telling lies!" Chartette announced triumphantly, as if her strength was completely righteous.

"Lies! The hell are you talking about?" Ney exclaimed, rubbing the back of her head.

"You implied that we did something last night in your room!" the poor maid said. "Awful joke, Ney!"

"Tette, I merely said that we had_ fun_. What were you thinking of?" Ney groaned, having no time or effort to even put extra emphasis on her teasing as, of course, that mere hit to her head hurt. Terribly. If she had a raging headache throughout the whole day, she'd curse Chartette to the heavens.

"Y-You still didn't have to do that," Chartette insisted, walking into the kitchens as she popped a slice of rye bread in her mouth and grabbed a steel mug of water. Ney did the same, then looked around as even the cooks were gossiping about. The maids ate quickly, but just as they were leaving, the priest for the servants' quarters tugged on Ney's apron to catch her attention.

"You two will be attending to the princess now, right? Tell us what happened," he said, with the remaining servants and cooks in the kitchen agreeing with him.

"And what's it in for me?" Ney asked.

"Samples of food for the princess before she eats them!" the head cook announced, much to Chartette's glee.

"Well," Ney said, looking at Chartette's apparent excitement at sampling the food served to royalty before they even ate it, "that's good enough," she conceded.

Walking up to the main floor of the servants' quarters to reach the front door and out, Ney and Chartette made their way in the darkness of the early morning to the brightly lit palace in where the ministers and the princess resided. The yellow cloaks that Chartette fiddled with earlier on served to be a sensible idea since the morning was still very chilly, and upon reaching the palace, they sighed in relief at the gradual warmth that enveloped the area. Chartette took a deep breath as she spotted the ministers walking about, sleepily inquiring each other about what could've been the problem so early in the morning.

Ney, however, wasn't very interested in people who constantly asked questions, for she wanted answers instead. Taking Chartette's warm hand in her cold one, she led the way to the princess's chambers, to which Allen was already waiting outside.

"Morning, Allen!" Chartette waved, but both Allen and Ney motioned for her to be quiet.

"Morning," Allen said in a hushed whisper. "Lady Mariam Futapie is inside, but she wants us to be outside for the moment."

Ney arched an eyebrow. "Outside? Why summon Mother and wake everyone else up in the process?"

* * *

><p>As Riliane fixed her gold earrings on her ears, Mariam took care of placing the two black rose hairpins in her hair, with both parties staying silent.<p>

If anything, Mariam noticed a large change in the princess's visage, mainly the fact that she no longer had the air of a young girl satisfied with many expensive dolls to play with. Riliane's features, which were mainly inherited from her beautiful mother, Queen Anne, were now hardened with a certain sternness born out of excessive worry. This was no longer the child that she knew; this wasn't the child whom the late queen had entrusted her to.

The old Princess Riliane was replaced with this new one; this new princess who had her eyes steely and her mouth formed into a grim frown.

"Your Highness Riliane," Mariam began, having already fixed the princess's hair. "Is there an emergency? You have ordered for the royal court to be awake at this time."

"It's my birthday tomorrow," Riliane said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Yes, Your Highness," Mariam agreed.

"It will be a grand yet private celebration, so it should only be right that everyone must start preparing for it immediately, as early as they can. A day should be enough; I'm not going to ask for much," the princess said, nodding to herself quietly.

"Indeed, Your Highness," the Head of Maids said, as if by rote. "Do you require any special arrangements for tomorrow?"

"I have already spoken to Captain Leonhart Avadonia about the special arrangements," Riliane said, turning back to face the cloak and dagger specialist with a small, tired smile. "All I need are gifts for the royal families of the other countries, as well as food for the guests."

Then the rest that followed greatly shocked Mariam.

_A cake that must be no more than two tiers; chocolate, for anything else would be too extravagant._

_The festivities must start at 7 pm and must end at 9 pm, then the royals and the nobles must leave. _

_At 10, the Royal Guard would assemble to meet with the princess, and the entire Lucifenian court must be present._

"Do write them down, _Madame_ Futapie," Riliane offered helpfully. "You might forget; those are quite a lot of orders that I want you to carry out for me."

"I do not forget, Princess Riliane," Mariam managed, though looking slightly overwhelmed. "But, if I may ask, why all the arrangements? Is there something wrong, Your Highness?"

Riliane repeated herself as calmly as she could. "_It's my birthday tomorrow._"

"Princess," Mariam insisted lightly, even reaching out to touch Riliane's freshly bandaged hands, but the princess swatted her hand away immediately, looking rather aghast and appalled at the fact that the Head of Maids dared to even think that she would let her touch her hands. Riliane let out a gasp of indignation, then drew in a breath before talking back.

"What _nerve!_"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Mariam said contritely.

"To think that _I_ should answer to _you_!" Riliane exclaimed. "_You_ should answer to _me_!"

Realizing that, like many occasions prior, Mariam Futapie wouldn't budge at her anger, Riliane stood up and angrily headed for the doors, intending to open them in order to walk out in an angry huff. At the mental reminder of her bandaged hands, however, Riliane gave a small 'tsk!' of irritation, then turned back at the Head of Maids and screamed.

"You know my hands _hurt!_ _**Open the doors!**_"

Even the three servants waiting outside winced at Riliane's shrill tones, and like anyone who had sense, stepped a good few steps away from the doors.

Mariam acquiesced, opening both of the doors to let Riliane out. The princess walked out crossly, and like how they were taught, Allen bowed and the maids curtsied at her presence. Riliane took a deep breath, then openly voiced out her distaste.

"The air, it is thin."

No one said anything to agree or disagree with that statement.

"...It is disgusting," she finalized, then looked over at Allen. "Walk with me in the Heavenly Yard, Allen. Chartette, Ney, prepare my gown for tomorrow night."

Allen complied, expecting Riliane to take his arm as he offered it, but he considered the pain that her wounds gave her and settled for walking beside her instead. Ney and Chartette curtsied as the princess and her chamberlain left, then the taller of the two went into the quarters of the princess to greet her mother.

"_Bonjour, maman_," Ney greeted her quietly with a bow, which was accompanied with Chartette greeting her as well.

"_Bonjour_," Mariam said absently, looking around Riliane's room. Nothing amiss.

"...Did something happen?" the blonde-haired maid asked. "Was the princess angry?"

"Something is up," Mariam voiced out as quietly as her daughter spoke, but as much as she wanted to look into the matter, she chose not to out of moral conduct.

* * *

><p>"<em>A cake that must be no more than two tiers<em>," Elluka Clockworker whistled, looking at the servants go to and fro to prepare for Princess Riliane's birthday. "That's rather sad, isn't it? Not enough to go around."

Leonhart, despite his joy on the young princess's change of behavior, was also quite unsettled with the sudden change of style in orders. When Mariam told the two of them the news, Elluka did look rather deep in thought, but other than that, she seemed pretty much unperturbed. The mage seemed to not care less about what the princess did, however it was a little strange. Princess Riliane, who was now currently possessed by the demon of Pride, was having a small, semi-private birthday party, and was suddenly interested in military warfare with the intention of solidifying influence, or maybe with the intentions of geographical conquest?

Well, she never thought that little Riliane would take '_history lessons with Auntie Elly_' seriously.

"There's nothing amiss in her room that I can find," Mariam said, looking around in the Hall of Mirrors. "Did any of you wake up at the designated time the princess called for this morning?"

Leonhart raised his hand. "I was at home, so I didn't know anything."

"I couldn't even care less," Elluka shrugged.

"You sleep in the dungeons," Mariam pointed out.

"A _room_ in the dungeons," Elluka corrected with a click of her tongue. "Really, Mariam. Do be more observant."

"On the bright side, Mariam, the princess yelled at me too," Leonhart sighed, staying beside the accomplished assassin. "Did you see her hands? Bandaged and wounded, as if she had held a blade on purpose. And she won't say anything. Normally, she'd be screaming for the death of the person who did her harm, but she didn't say a word about it!"

Mariam nodded worriedly. "She swatted my hand away when I expressed interest in her wounds."

"That's very funny," Elluka said, frowning. "I gave a special ointment to Allen quite some time ago. Riliane would've let him treat her wounds, and that ointment is very special; it can heal wounds very quickly. Why then hasn't her wounds healed instantly?"

"No matter how good medicine is, I doubt that it can heal wounds within a day," Leonhart pointed out.

A kick to the shin was the response from the accomplished mage.

"Ow!"

"Idiot," Elluka hissed. "Are you saying that my skills have_ dulled?_"

"No, no!" Leonhart feebly said, rubbing his shin as he tried to balance on one leg with his armor.

"If you find that there is something wrong, to which I do as well," Mariam said, placing her hands on Elluka's arm, "then please do your best to find out what it is. The princess is discretion itself. We will help you if you need any help."

Elluka merely looked at the ceiling, which was filled with various chandeliers hanging from it. The Hall of Mirrors really was a sight to behold; the very display of a true Lucifenian interior. But as the Hall of Mirrors reflected the proverb of 'walls have eyes,' so did the Hall of Sounds reflect the proverb of 'walls have ears.' The finery, the grandeur, and everything else, all in the hands of a girl who will turn fourteen, and possessed by a demon of sin.

War.

That's not pride at all. If anything, it's wrath.

But all in all, she had said something:_ 'All in all, I can't let her be the same as Venomania or Banica...I must seek to prevent it from happening again_._'_

"...The Three Heroes will have to be back in action, but you'll have to pardon my creaking bones and my old lady quilt," Elluka teased with a wink and a smile to her comrades. "A small adventure won't hurt this old woman, nor this dumb knight or this lady with her kicking habit, hm?~"

* * *

><p>The Dowager Queen of Marlon looked up from her embroidery in her quarters to see her court mage, in an entirely new visage, and a new gown.<p>

"Well, how do you like it, Your Majesty?" Abyss I.R. laughed, twirling around as she took a seat right next to the dowager queen. "After a long time, I finally found a body that suits me very well, and it brings such nostalgic memories. Of course, I used your funds for the gown; don't get too sore over it."

"You look like a little girl," Prim Marlon laughed, beckoning the mage to come closer. Pale, long fingers combed through long pink locks, then the dowager queen drank the sight of the witch in. Indeed, she was very much like a little girl now, instead of the menacing old lady that used to unsettle the Marlon court so. Beautiful pink hair; the color of a pink rose, and golden eyes that seemed to startle most people. The gown itself was a ruby red with no panniers; the representation of a scarlet woman? Prim herself doesn't know.

"Princess Riliane of Lucifenia will celebrate her birthday tomorrow," Abyss I.R. whispered into the dowager queen's ear. "What will you give her?"

Prim thought on it for a while, feeling the weight of the witch near her, as well as catching the scent of perfume.

"I'll think of something. What do you have for me, though?"

"Nothing of value. Will you throw me away?" Abyss I.R. lazily asked, but upon seeing Prim's aghast expression at the possibility that for once, she didn't have anything to present to her, the mage laughed out loud. "What? I can't have a day off?"

"It's not that," Prim patiently said. "It's the fact that for once, you've decided to see me for something other than work."

"You're certainly correct. I want you to know that I'm going to be absent tomorrow."

"Hence the new gown?" Prim asked, curious. "Where are you going?"

Abyss I.R. made herself comfortable as she plucked the embroidery off Prim's hands before lying on the dowager queen's lap, kicking off her shoes as she raised a tiny foot in the air. Prim was forced to look down in surprise as the mage got too close for comfort, since the dowager queen wasn't used to the fact that she was now a youthful teenage girl in appearance instead of a withering old grandmother. The cat followed suit, getting on top of it's owner as it made itself comfortable in her welcoming arms.

"I've always loved birthday parties," Abyss I.R. whispered, grinning up at Prim.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The third chapter is finally up, after a day! Thank you so much for your reviews; the fourth chapter will come soon!

Despite knowing that the characters in this fanfiction use their own languages based on their countries (Lucifenians are assumed to speak French, and Marlonese are assumed to speak English), there are some elements of foreign words because of the general feel and emphasis. Thank you very much, and please stay tuned for the next chapter!

-Densetsu-no-Maguro


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